


Love and Lies

by Missy



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Brothers, Coping, Drama, Dysfunctional Family, Family, Family Drama, Flashbacks, Gen, Kid Fic, Minor Character Death, Orphans, Tearjerker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-11
Updated: 2012-09-11
Packaged: 2017-11-14 00:36:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If you love enough, you'll lie a lot." And so Michael does to form a bond with his brother's orphaned son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and Lies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afullmargin (anemptymargin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemptymargin/gifts).



> Written for Afullmargin for Ineedmyfics fest in '12. A little off-prompt, but I couldn't resist.

_“If you love enough, you’ll lie a lot – guess they did in Camelot…”_ – Tori Amos, Jackie’s Strength

Michael Westen burst through the front door of 150 Raymando Street with all of the impatience of a Viking-charged battering ram. Meeting with a silent, peaceful household, he tucked his pistol back into the waistband of his khakis and turned toward his chainsmoking mother, who occupied a nauseatingly bright floral-print couch.

“Where is he?”

“In your old room,” Maddie says, exhaling a puff of smoke and fanning out with her ring-covered hand. “Sam and Fiona picked him up this afternoon.” 

“Two days early,” he remarked grimly. Then, with quiet frustration, he added, “you said it was an emergency,” he complained.

“It is, Michael,” Madeline snapped. “None of us can get him to stop crying.”

Michael’s face turned to stone. He was no better at comforting children now than he had been when Charlie was an infant. “You should have called…”

“Who?” Madeline snapped. “The Easter Bunny?” She tucked her fists against her hips, and Michael braced himself for the incoming lecture. “Ruth’s gone and we need to act like a family for the sake of that little boy.” 

“I’m on it, Ma,” Michael said, pocketing his sunglasses. “Do you need anything?”

“No,” she said flatly. He stared again into the yawning chasm of her half-healed grief and felt a chill race down his spine. A polite smile crossed her face. “Sam and Fiona brought me dinner. I’m going to take a nice, long nap while Christine argues with Renaldo about their secret baby.”

“Right. Do that.” 

Michael pressed on into the house, and toward his childhood room. Though muffled, he could hear Sam’s voice, jolly and cloying. Occasionally Fiona would offer a word or two of support, but he knew she had little to volunteer to the child in way of affection; they were a foreign subject to her, as foreign as the child himself would be to her now.

“So?” Charlie’s voice came warbling over Sam’s blandishments, a tearful, prepubescent treble.

There was no more than a brief pause before Sam said, “well, my name’s not Charlie all the time. Only sometimes. But most of the time, I’m Sam.”

“Oh. Mom said that my dad named me after someone named Charlie who liked to say he was really named Sam.”

Michael’s half-smile was hidden in the cool wood of the doorframe. Even Sam hadn’t known about that. “Wow.” He said. “Your dad was like that. Did you know that, Charlie? He thought guys like me were cool.”

The little boy sniffled, seemingly oblivious to Sam’s joke. Michael recognized the opportunity for a team effort and pushed the door open.

“He liked to play with army men,” Michael said from the doorway. Sam and Fiona’s heads swiveled up in his direction, but Charlie laid still, his shoulders stiff and indignantly set against his superhero-covered sheets. “When we would play, he’d always take the solider with the bazooka and stick him in the top branch of that out willow tree out back. He said they were snipers and…” He swallowed and squeezed his teeth shut.

Fiona moved toward him slowly, with great caution, and she seemed to Michael to be floating like an angel in his direction. Soon Sam was there, too – their hands united against the small of Michael’s back, but Michael was sucked away from them mentally, and back in time….

***

_Nate hunched over the picnic table, hand tightly holding onto a permanent pen. Michael carried two walkie-talkies and a tray of cheeseburgers, but neither sight was enough to make Nate look up from what he studied._

_Michael peered down. “I thought you told me you already had Ruth’s paperwork filed.”_

_“I’m officially a free man,” Nate said. “This is something more important.”_

_“Are those your taxes? That’s shockingly…mature.”_

_“Aww, bro – you think I’d do the responsible thing?” he teased. “Nah, this isn’t Ruth’s.” He held up the sheet of paper so that Michael could better see it. “Check it out.”_

_Michael scanned the document, “your will?” his eyes settled on a particular bit of text. “…Legal guardianship of my son, Charles Michael Westen shall revert to Michael Westen of Miami Florida on the event of R. Westen’s death?” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re really sure about that, Nate?”_

_“Never been more sure of anything in my life,” he said, placing the paper on the table before him, then affixing the document with his signature. “If anything ever happens, take him to see the Rays, Mike – and make sure he plays in the dirt with some army men.”_

_“That’s not going to happen,” Michael said, taking a huge bite out of his burger. “You’re gonna be around for years to take Charlie to baseball games.”_

_Nate turned away and tucked the documents into his front pocket. “Right, bro,” Nate grinned. “You’re always right...”_

***

The memory receded, and Michael continued, “…They were looking out for bad guys.” Like their father. Like the welfare officer who tried to have them separated when someone had noticed the bruises on Nate’s back during a scoliosis test at school. “When he grew up, I helped him get rid of bad guys, and now I do it with your Aunt Fi and uncle Sam,” Michael lied. “Your dad was the bravest, strongest man I knew.” 

Charlie rolled over. “Who _are_ you?” The little boy wondered. 

“I’m your Uncle Michael,” he said. The little boy dashed the tears from his eyes and nodded. “You’re going to live with me now – and with your Aunt Fiona and your Uncle Sam. Okay?” Charlie’s red, freckle-stained cheeks glowed with rebellion, but he nodded curtly. “Okay.” Michael offered the little boy his hand and he slid off the bed together. “One more thing.” Charlie looked up at him, with those dark doe eyes that were his brother’s exact shade. “Wanna know a secret?” Charlie nodded his head. Michael gave the kid a bare-bones smirk. “I used to be a spy.”

And Michael saw Charlie’s eyes light up the way Nate’s used to when they’d speak of cowboys and spacemen. Hope; a fresh slate – Charlie’s young life promised both to Michael, and this time he wouldn’t fail. He was a grown-up now, and he would keep the boy alive, sane and healthy, in memory of his father.

Charlie was counting on him. And this time Michael wouldn’t allow himself to let go.


End file.
